cradle. Once secured, the elevator of the Falling Star began its slow ascent, sea water pouring out of the crevices of the Squid as it rose above the water. When the elevator platform reached its maximum height, Jim Anderson jumped down from the conning tower. Waiting for him on the now dry platform were Robison, Sevson, Mike, and McHugh.
"How did it go?" asked Robison.
"Like a charm, I think we're ready for the first bottom dive tomorrow morning," said Anderson, with a big grin on his face. Carver remained silent.
Later that evening, Carver quietly approached McHugh. "Commander, I don't want to be an alarmist, but I saw something big move in the shadows when we leveled out."
"What do you think it was, Chief?"
"I don't know, sir," replied Carver, "but it was big and fast."
"What did Anderson think?"
"He didn't see it, but he thinks it might have been a blue whale."
"Interesting, I don't think blue whales could dive that deep," replied McHugh. "Did you note it in the log?"
"Yes, sir."
"Thanks for telling me Chief," replied McHugh. "I'll keep it in mind."
What McHugh did not tell Carver about was the incident involving the SSBN - 620, the John Adams. He made a note in his small notebook that he kept for these events.
That night, McHugh tossed and turned in a fitful sleep. He chastised himself for acting like a school boy. During the time he slept, his dreams were filled with all manner of images, some beautiful, some scary, and some downright monstrous. In one sequence, he was chased by a mysterious shadow, a monstrous unspoken shadow. What, who, how.... dreamed McHugh. At dawn he would know soon enough.
"God, I hope it's something explainable," McHugh muttered under his breath.
0630 Hours: Saturday, March 16, 1969, Aboard the R/V Falling Star
In the small mess on board the R/V Falling Star , McHugh sat with his usual crew. His hands clasping the ceramic mug of steaming hot coffee with the MacAlear logo, McHugh was deep in thought. Sevson sat picking at his scrambled eggs and sausage. Robison kept going over the checklist and the "Incident Sheet" which detailed the numerous nits encountered during the last twenty four hours of operation.
Robison wanted to make sure that this dive went smoothly; he was extremely pleased that the Incident Sheet was mercifully short and was comprised of mainly minor items. The three old friends had already fallen back to the unspoken routine that only time and seasoned friendships can long endure.
Robison had smuggled on board a reel to reel tape player and had Sevson, the electronics wizard, jury rig a direct current to alternating current inverter so that they could play some of their favorite music during the cruise.
As the three friends sat drinking their coffee, the old familiar beat of music played on and Gogi Grant sang, "...The Wayward Wind...Is a Rest-Less Wind...A Rest-Less Wind...That Yearns to Wan-Der...And He Was Born...The Next of Kin...The Next of Kin...To the Wayward Wind...."
Gogi's voice and the lyrics evoked halcyon memories of cruises on the R/V Wayward Wind , the Fifties, and a happier, friendlier time.
"What do you think, Bob?" asked Sevson.
"I think if this turns out to be a dud, we're in a heap of trouble. If it turns out to be something big, we're in a heap of trouble," replied Lieutenant Commander Robert McHugh, U.S.N.
"Yeah, I know what you mean," replied Sevson.
"Com'on guys, we've got work to do!" urged Robison, trying to get his old friends out of their funk and motivated.
"Yeah, let's go," agreed McHugh, downing the last of his coffee and briefly shaking as the caffeine hit his system.
The three friends walked out to the elevator platform where Mike, Anderson, and Carver were busy putting finishing touches on the various instrumentation systems.
On this first bottom dive, McHugh had made the decision that he and Robison would be the two observers to join Anderson and Carver. Dressed in blue
"How did it go?" asked Robison.
"Like a charm, I think we're ready for the first bottom dive tomorrow morning," said Anderson, with a big grin on his face. Carver remained silent.
Later that evening, Carver quietly approached McHugh. "Commander, I don't want to be an alarmist, but I saw something big move in the shadows when we leveled out."
"What do you think it was, Chief?"
"I don't know, sir," replied Carver, "but it was big and fast."
"What did Anderson think?"
"He didn't see it, but he thinks it might have been a blue whale."
"Interesting, I don't think blue whales could dive that deep," replied McHugh. "Did you note it in the log?"
"Yes, sir."
"Thanks for telling me Chief," replied McHugh. "I'll keep it in mind."
What McHugh did not tell Carver about was the incident involving the SSBN - 620, the John Adams. He made a note in his small notebook that he kept for these events.
That night, McHugh tossed and turned in a fitful sleep. He chastised himself for acting like a school boy. During the time he slept, his dreams were filled with all manner of images, some beautiful, some scary, and some downright monstrous. In one sequence, he was chased by a mysterious shadow, a monstrous unspoken shadow. What, who, how.... dreamed McHugh. At dawn he would know soon enough.
"God, I hope it's something explainable," McHugh muttered under his breath.
0630 Hours: Saturday, March 16, 1969, Aboard the R/V Falling Star
In the small mess on board the R/V Falling Star , McHugh sat with his usual crew. His hands clasping the ceramic mug of steaming hot coffee with the MacAlear logo, McHugh was deep in thought. Sevson sat picking at his scrambled eggs and sausage. Robison kept going over the checklist and the "Incident Sheet" which detailed the numerous nits encountered during the last twenty four hours of operation.
Robison wanted to make sure that this dive went smoothly; he was extremely pleased that the Incident Sheet was mercifully short and was comprised of mainly minor items. The three old friends had already fallen back to the unspoken routine that only time and seasoned friendships can long endure.
Robison had smuggled on board a reel to reel tape player and had Sevson, the electronics wizard, jury rig a direct current to alternating current inverter so that they could play some of their favorite music during the cruise.
As the three friends sat drinking their coffee, the old familiar beat of music played on and Gogi Grant sang, "...The Wayward Wind...Is a Rest-Less Wind...A Rest-Less Wind...That Yearns to Wan-Der...And He Was Born...The Next of Kin...The Next of Kin...To the Wayward Wind...."
Gogi's voice and the lyrics evoked halcyon memories of cruises on the R/V Wayward Wind , the Fifties, and a happier, friendlier time.
"What do you think, Bob?" asked Sevson.
"I think if this turns out to be a dud, we're in a heap of trouble. If it turns out to be something big, we're in a heap of trouble," replied Lieutenant Commander Robert McHugh, U.S.N.
"Yeah, I know what you mean," replied Sevson.
"Com'on guys, we've got work to do!" urged Robison, trying to get his old friends out of their funk and motivated.
"Yeah, let's go," agreed McHugh, downing the last of his coffee and briefly shaking as the caffeine hit his system.
The three friends walked out to the elevator platform where Mike, Anderson, and Carver were busy putting finishing touches on the various instrumentation systems.
On this first bottom dive, McHugh had made the decision that he and Robison would be the two observers to join Anderson and Carver. Dressed in blue
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